


Clip My Wings and Watch Me Fall

by IsaacTheGreat69



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Physical Trauma, Violence, broken virgil, non-binary characters, non-binary darkside ocs, non-binary deceit, non-binary virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaacTheGreat69/pseuds/IsaacTheGreat69
Summary: They all had wings, but they didn’t know why. They were as normal to the Main Sides as their eyes, or the way they were all subtly different heights.That is, until they weren’t.Inspired by this post: https://dr-gloom.tumblr.com/post/177927310379/ill-protect-you-in-any-way-i-can-even-if-that





	Clip My Wings and Watch Me Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I REAAAALLLLY liked writing this, omg. It was essentially a two-day project. It caused me to think a lot about the long-term, in terms of plot, and I really enjoyed building upon the simple idea I had in my head when I decided to undertake this job. I'm also trying to put more non-binary characters in my writing and it was just supposed to be Virge but then Deceit happened and then I just said "what if Dark Sides are non-binary???" so enjoy that.

No one knew why they had wings. On days where they were wont for things to do, they’d sit in a circle and card their fingers through each other’s feathers and theorize, though the latter was a sport undertaken mostly by the moral and creative sides.

“Maybe it’s because we’re Light Sides?”

“That title is entirely subjective; just look at Virgil. It has to be something else.”

“Well…. Maybe because we have human names?”

“Deceit has a human name, so no.”

That makes Patton pause, and he turns around to look over his shoulder at Virgil. “Wait, really?” Virgil nods, seeming surprised that this is new information to the other three. “Yeah… You guys really didn’t know? They all have names, just like y- us.” That causes the others pause as they consider that new information, and Virgil’s slight faux pas. Eventually they go back to grooming and theorizing, shelving that information for another day.

Virgil ponders over this as they watch the other sides meander about the commons, watching the light as it flows seamlessly through their feathers like water. All the side’s wings were beautiful, in their opinion, and perfectly suited to each side. Roman’s were a rich, striking red that drew the eye, larger than life just like the side they belonged to. In a certain light, the feathers of Roman’s wings shone with a soft golden tint to them, mesmerizing the observer. Patton had feathers as blue as the sky, just as depthless and breathtaking. They instilled one with a sense of calm and peace, as if they were saying “everything will be okay”. Logan’s were a deep blue, almost black – just like the night sky. His feathers were dotted with the random white spot, and from a distance you might mistake his wings for the real night sky if you allowed yourself to get lost in them. Virgil’s, well. They were one of the few things they loved about themselves. They were a deep fathomless black at the root and along the arch, slowly fading to an intense, shimmering purple at the tips.

The color wasn’t where the differences stopped. The shapes of the feathers themselves differed as well; Roman’s were long, consistent in their width and curving smoothly to a gentle point. Patton’s were shorter, wider, and curved more steeply. They reminded Virgil of a Parrot’s wings. Logan’s were wide, with more loose fibers, made more for appearance than utility. Virgil’s were longer than Roman’s, the curve of them narrower, almost like daggers. They were the best flier in the group, the quickest. It made sense; they were the group’s protector. Thomas’ protector.

Virgil would use their wings to sail above the mindscape and the subconscious, keeping an eye on everything. They were always too anxious to skip patrol, no matter how tired they were, and it led to many sleep-deprived mornings where Patton whined indignantly at the natural bags under Virgil’s eyes until Virgil promised to take a nap. This usually translated to them laying in bed restlessly for about two hours before pulling out their phone and feigning just waking up around lunch time, if only so they can see Patton smile happily.

The others’ wings had functions too, of course. Roman could still fly, though he couldn’t move as fast as Virgil. He stuck to loops and twirls in midair in the imagination, laughing as his head spun lightly at the feeling of performing a wide loop. Virgil didn’t know if they could do that, but even if they could they didn’t think they’d ever try. That was fine with them; Roman could be the one to put on the shows, to help the birds in the imagination learn to fly and perform tricks as well. Virgil and the others enjoyed the sight, and Roman always felt good after a performance, or when he saw a baby bird take its first flight.

Patton’s were the perfect protection from weather, both for himself and the others. When it had begun to rain outside the mind palace, they’d all ran outside to sit in the comfortable staccato and Patton had raised his wings to shield them, the water droplets rolling off his wings with little effort. The others always felt like they were using Patton whenever they’d do something like this, but Patton reassured them that he liked being able to provide for his family. Virgil knew if they ever tried to do something like that, the rain would drip drip drip between their narrow feathers. They appreciated Patton’s differences.

Logan’s wings, though not good for flight and hardly stocky enough for protection, provided warmth. The soft down of the feathers insulated heat and provided a feeling of being wrapped in a cloud on a warm summer day. On nights where Logan would come into the commons to find Virgil awake, he usually managed to coax the other to sleep by sitting with them and wrapping a wing around them. Virgil would never say it out loud, but they were grateful for that. They’d never admit that on some nights they made a little more noise than usual in the hopes that Logan was awake and would hear them.

Yes, they were all different, but there was no resentment between any of the sides, no jealousy festering under the surface. They each had their own specialties and talents, and that was okay with them.

“Kiddo? Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Patton was leaning down to be eye level with Virgil, looking at them with slight concern and curiosity. Virgil blinks and shrugs noncommittally. “Wings.”

Roman walks into the room with a sandwich, sitting on the other side of the couch and laughing. “Do you ever think of anything else?” Virgil shrugs again, feeling their face heat up. “They’re my favorite part.”

“Of what?”

“Us.”

* * *

 

“Suspicious behavior?” Virgil had been out on patrol when they’d seen Declan wandering the mindscape, so they landed to see what the other side was doing out virtually in the middle of nowhere. “What kind of suspicious behavior?”

“They’ve all  _haven’t_  been talking about overthrowing your friends.  _Not_  taking over as Thomas’ main sides.”

Virgil paled slightly, looking over Declan’s face to try in vain to detect a lie… or truth, he supposed. “You… you heard them say that?”

“ _No_ , of course I  _haven’t_. I  _would_  come to you with absolutely no evidence, purely on paranoid suspicion.” Declan adjusted their bowler hat, eyes flitting over their surroundings before landing back on Virgil.

“Well, what exactly have they said? Maybe you just-“

“ _Yes_ , I’m certain I  _did_  mishear them, and everything is  _fine_.” Virgil bit their lip.

* * *

 

Virgil opens the front door of the mind palace, looking out over the mindscape. They flap their wings slightly, getting ready to take off and start patrols when someone stops them.

“Wait!”

Virgil tenses reflexively and turns around, surprised to see Patton still awake. “Yeah? What’s up, Pat?” Patton stops about two feet away, fidgeting with his hands nervously – a strange look on the normally jubilant and outgoing side. “Can I… Can I come with you?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow, turning to fully face the other. “You want to come on patrol with me?”

Patton perks up, smiling brightly. “Yeah! You’re always sacrificing so much to keep us safe, I just wanted to keep you company for a night. And I’m kind of curious what you do!” He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, and Virgil sighs softly, shaking their head with a fond smile. “Sure, Patton. Come on.”

They head out into the mindscape together, and once they’re far enough away from the house, Virgil wraps their arms around Patton. When the moral side blushes, Virgil rushes to explain, “I- you can’t fly as fast as me. It’ll be better if I just- … carry you with me.” Patton nods, smiling sheepishly. “Right! Okay. I trust you, kiddo.” Virgil nods, flaps their wings once, then twice, and suddenly the two of them shoot into the air. Once Virgil is high enough, they start gliding through the air, surveying the landscape.

Patton is heavy, but only in the way that Virgil isn’t used to carrying someone with them when they fly. They aren’t straining to keep the other aloft, and when they glance down and see the amazed expression on Patton’s face, it’s totally worth it. They talk as they fly, Virgil pointing things out (with their words – their hands are occupied) and explaining things to Patton and answering any questions Patton asks.

“You really do this every night?”

“Yep.”

“Wow… Have you ever run into anything?”

“Once, Declan got lost, though they would never admit it.”

“…..”

Virgil seems to realize their mistake. “Declan is Deceit’s human name.”

“Oh! … They really got lost in the mindscape?”

“Yeah, but they never told me why.”

“Huh.”

Once they finally landed, Patton brushed himself off with a grin and hugged Virgil. “Thanks for humoring your old man, kiddo, this was fun!” Virgil tries to suppress their smile, but Patton sees it anyways. “Yeah, sure. You should get to bed now; it’s almost 1 AM.” Patton gives them a look. “What?”

“Are you going to go to bed too?”

Virgil looks off to the side. Apparently, their hesitation is all the answer Patton needs. His expression turns a little more serious. “Virgil. You need to sleep.” Virgil sighs, rubbing the back of their neck. “Pat, I gotta go on patrol, I still have to make my rounds on foot and go up one more time.” Patton looks dubious, but he must be able to see that Virgil won’t budge, because he gives in with a sigh. “Okay… But after that you better head straight to bed, got it?” Virgil nods, smiling slightly. “Yeah Pat, I got it.”

Virgil heads off to make their rounds around the mind palace, and Patton watches them go. He looks down at the ground, seeing two purple feathers. He picks them up and heads to bed with a small smile.

From that point on, Patton makes a point of joining Virgil on patrol duty at least once a week, and on those following mornings Virgil always greets him with coffee and breakfast already made.

* * *

 

“Are you sure about that, Declan? I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Declan rolls their eyes, inspecting a gloved hand. “ _No_ , and I’m absolutely sure it’s  _totally harmless_.”

Virgil’s mouth quirks to the side uncertainly and they look out over the mindscape. “I… I have to think about it.”

“Oh, by all means,  _don’t_  take your time.”

* * *

 

“I demand a race!” Virgil looks up from their phone to see Roman with his hands on his hips, a challenging glint in his eyes.

“You know I’d win right.”

Roman laughs, “But we don’t know! We’ve never raced before! So, I want to race!”

Virgil hums in thought, setting their phone aside. “Fine, but only if we do it in the mindscape. Perfectly neutral territory.” Roman nods enthusiastically and Virgil follows him outside, sticking their hands in their pockets. “Shouldn’t we set rules or something? And get one of the others to ref?”

Roman gasps. “You’re right! Patton, Logan!”

A moment later, the two other sides walk out of the mind palace, Logan looking a little miffed and Patton practically skipping out. “Yes, Roman? What is it now?”

“Princey wants to race. We need one of you to make sure he doesn’t cheat.” Roman makes an indignant sound and whirls around to look at Virgil, feigning hurt. “As if I would ever cheat, I’m a perfect gentleman! How do I know you won’t cheat? This is more your territory than mine!”

“I don’t need to cheat, I already know I’m faster.”

“Okay kiddos, that’s enough. I’ll be your referee!” Patton steps forward, holding his arms out like some sort of offering. Logan pushes his glasses up his nose. “I suppose some rules should be set in place by an impartial party?” At the others’ nods, he continues. “Very well. One, this race will be conducted entirely in the air; no walking or running. Two, you may not cut corners or use trickery to shorten your distance; you must adhere to the confines of the race’s path. Three, there will be absolutely no sabotage; any ill actions toward your competitor will result in an automatic disqualification. Four, all decisions are final; you may not debate either myself or Patton on our verdict once the winner has been decided. Do you agree?” When Virgil and Roman nod, he straightens up a bit. “Excellent. Now then, shall we get started?”

The mindscape shifts and fades before being replaced by calm woodlands. A clear path disappears into the distance. As Virgil and Roman look around, Patton claps. “This is so cool! Okay guys, ready?” Virgil rolls their shoulders, flapping their wings slightly. “Set,” Roman smirks, getting into position like he’s about to shoot off running, but Virgil doesn’t pay him any mind. “GO!” The two sides take off, Virgil shooting through the air and Roman close behind. Logan stumbles a bit in the slight aftershock, adjusting his glasses and huffing. Patton looks after them with wonder, and Logan clears his throat, making Patton look over. “Shouldn’t you be making sure they aren’t cheating?” Patton’s hands come up to frame his face as his mouth falls open, “You’re right!” He takes off, heading up through the trees to get a view from higher up.

Roman and Virgil zip through the trees, keeping to the trail underneath them as they try to keep an eye on where they’re going while also watching the other. They spin and loop around each other, a sort of impromptu air battle that they weren’t actually fighting. Roman had the biggest grin on his face, his laughter being taken away in the wind. Virgil is smiling too; though it’s more subdued they feel the same as Roman. They flap their wings, propelling themselves forward, barely hearing Roman’s shout of surprise. They smirk; they tried to tell Roman, but he just wouldn’t listen.

They don’t know how long they’re flying before they can see Logan in the distance, but Roman is still behind them. Roman tries to gain ground, starting to catch up to Virgil as they approach the finish line, but it’s too late. Virgil passes Logan, drawing their wings in and coming to a stop a few yards ahead, landing on their feet and turning to watch Roman land a few feet away. They’re both panting, cheeks flushed and large smiles on their faces, and for a moment that’s all there is. They’ve forgotten about the competition, about trying to win, to prove who’s the better flier. Right now, they’re just two friends sharing a bonding moment, an activity they both love.

“I believe it’s clear that Virgil is the winner here.”

Roman groans in defeat and sits right in the middle of the path, causing a small plume of dust to rise around him. Virgil snickers and walks over to Roman, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry so much Princey, you don’t need to be the fastest.”

Patton descends from the tree line, landing next to Logan. “That was amazing! You guys are so cool!” He runs up to the other two sides as Roman stands again and wraps his arms around them. “Let’s celebrate!”

“Celebrate what, me totally crushing Roman?”

“Hey!”

Virgil shrugs unapologetically. “What? It’s true.”

Patton laughs and begins leading the others back to the house as the mindscape changes back into its normal endless grass expanse. He looks over his shoulder at Roman, who’s putting something purple and black in his pocket. “Come on, Ro!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

* * *

 

Virgil paced their room, wings flapping agitatedly as they thought over what Declan told them. Could they really believe the other? They knew Declan was Thomas’ self-preservation, essentially, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own motives for lying to their former friend. But what if they were being honest and Virgil ignored them? Their friends would be in danger. Their back spasmed and they grunted in pain; they’d been more stressed than usual lately and their back muscles reflected that – tense and hard, twisted into knots.

There was a knock at their door, startling them out of their thoughts and pausing them mid-pace. “…Who is it?” They called, shoving their hands in their pockets. “Why, your knight in shining armor, of course!” Roman calls from the other side, and Virgil sighs softly. They weren’t in the mood to deal with Roman right now. “Roman, I’m not in the mood for a race right now, go conjure something.”

Roman huffs, and by the sound of it he leans against the door. “That’s not why I’m here. Let me in!” He whines, and Virgil groans, making it to the door in a couple paces and throwing it open. Roman nearly falls over, his wings flapping and managing to keep him upright. “Rude.” Virgil rolls their eyes and sits on their bed, Roman following them into the room and sitting on the other end. “Says the one imposing themselves on my peaceful moment of solitude.”

Roman blows a raspberry. “We both know you hate to be alone, don’t lie.”

Virgil doesn’t respond to that, so Roman keeps talking. “I actually came by to see if you wanted a massage. With all the flying you do and the stresses you take on, I can only imagine how bad your back is. Please?” Virgil makes a face. They didn’t like the thought of anyone touching their wings or back, especially after…. They shiver. Thinking like that only served to bring their thoughts back to the problem they’d been stressing over the past couple of days. The Dark Sides….

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks, looking over at Roman. “What?” Roman looks slightly concerned, if not a little exasperated. “I was saying that you seem more stressed than usual. Everything okay?” Virgil hesitated. Should they tell Roman? Maybe Roman could help them think this through better. Yet….

“Everything’s fine, you know me; always stressed.”

“Which brings me back to my previous point! Let me give you a back massage.”

Virgil picks at their cuticles. “I don’t know, Princey.” Roman pouts, “Come on, please? I promise you won’t regret it, I’m very good.” He wiggles his fingers for emphasis, making Virgil smile slightly. They look over Roman, taking in his princely attire, the satiny red wings, his caring smile.  _He’s not one of them._

“Sure, okay.”

Roman pumps his fist in triumph, and the two of them shift around until Virgil is laying on their stomach and Roman is straddling their thighs, kneading at the knotted muscles in Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil closes their eyes, letting out a breath slowly as they let themselves relax. They hadn’t gotten any sleep since they’d talked to Declan, doubling their patrols and using any free time to train for…. Something.

They didn’t even know what exactly they were going to be fighting when the Dark Sides made their move.

“I don’t know how you do everything you do. You truly are a wonder, Virge.” Roman dug his knuckles into a particularly hard knot right in the meat of Virgil’s shoulder, making them groan softly into their pillow. They could feel themselves relaxing more and more as Roman worked. God, they were so tired. Hopefully Roman wouldn’t mind of they just…

Got some rest…

* * *

 

“Virgil? May I speak to you for a moment?” Virgil paused the TV and looked over towards the hallway, glancing at Logan. “Uh… sure. What’s up?” They get up, walking over to Logan. The logical side looks almost… shy, hesitant to speak, and for a brief moment Virgil is worried something’s happened, but then they realize how stupid that is; if something was wrong, Logan wouldn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m sure you have realized that all of our wings have differing attributes. Color, shape, size, even texture, somewhat.” Virgil nods. “Well, I was hoping… That is to say, would you allow me to document your wings? For science, of course.” Virgil is surprised, but they nod.

“Yeah, sure Lo. Did you want to do it right here? Or in one of our rooms?”

Logan turns to start walking down the hall, and Virgil follows. “I want to do this in my room, if that’s alright. It’s a better environment for objective data collection.” Virgil shoves their hands in their pockets, staying quiet. Once they get to Logan’s room, Logan has Virgil sit on a stool placed in the middle of the room and asks them to spread their wings. Virgil hums and sighs softly, stretching their wings out to full capacity, their wing tips nearly touching the walls.

Logan takes measurements, touches the feathers with a touch so gentle Virgil hardly notices, runs his hands along the arch of Virgil’s wings. He asks Virgil in a peacefully quiet voice to fold their wings so that Logan can move behind them, and once Logan is standing behind the anxious side the process starts all over again. Logan has Virgil take off their shirt and he inspects the roots of their wings, causing Virgil to shiver involuntarily. He mutters an apology, and soon he’s straightening up, scribbling a final note as he steps back. “Thank you, Virgil. That should suffice.” Virgil nods and pulls their shirt back on, shaking out their wings and bringing them in to a more relaxed position.

“You seem to have the second largest wings, next to Roman, which is rather interesting. Your feathers are, in a sense, sharper than his and allow you to fly at a faster rate using less energy. Absolutely fascinating…” He wanders over to his desk, sitting down and rifling through other papers – probably more notes on the other two sides. He starts muttering to himself, comparing papers. He’s forgotten about Virgil entirely, and after a few minutes of watching Logan talk to himself and write things down, they smile and leave.

A few hours later when Logan finally comes back to the real world, he finds three black feathers and one grey-to-purple one. He picks them up carefully and gently places them in a desk drawer.

* * *

 

Virgil wakes up several hours later and sits up, dragging a hand through their hair. Roman is nowhere to be seen, which is expected; Virgil didn’t think he’d just sit around waiting for them to wake up. They slide out of bed, cursing when they look out their window to find the mindscape dark. How late was it? They were so screwed, they were late for patrol! Virgil grabs their hoodie and runs out of their room, nearly tripping as they fumble down the stairs and throw the front door open.

And run right into a fearful looking Declan.

“Oh, Virgil, it’s just  _wonderful_! The other Dark Sides  _don’t_  have Patton! We  _don’t_  have to save him!” Virgil felt their blood run cold. The Dark Sides had Patton? Oh god, Virgil couldn’t imagine what they were doing to him! Declan snaps their fingers in front of Virgil’s face, looking annoyed for a moment before the expression melds back into the fear they’d shown a moment ago. “Virgil,  _don’t_  focus. We  _don’t_  have to help Patton.” Virgil nods, taking a shaky breath.

“Okay. Okay. Take me there.”

They leave the mind palace, walking through the mindscape for what feels like hours. Declan and the other Dark Sides didn’t have wings, and Virgil knew from experience that Declan didn’t like to be carried around, so they had to settle for the steadily-growing feeling of going stir-crazy as they were limited to Declan’s too-relaxed (in Virgil’s opinion) gait.

Finally, just as Virgil is about to say screw it and take flight, they see the home of the Dark Sides. It looks much like the mind palace, but more run down, subdued. Darker. Virgil feels a shiver run down their spine and their pace quickens, carrying them ahead of Declan. They storm up to the house, forcing themselves past the front door and looking around frantically. “Patton! Where are you!” They look around the house, spotting the Dark Sides all sitting around their living room, completely relaxed.

Virgil storms into the room, visibly fuming. “What have you done with Patton? Give him back!” They snarl, every muscle tense, ready to fight if they have to. The other sides look at each other, then at Declan behind Virgil, and understanding dawns on their faces. They all suddenly look far more sinister than before, and Virgil feels goosebumps rise on their flesh.

“What will you give us?” Greed asks.

“Yeah, why should we just give him back? What do we get in return?” Fear adds. 

Virgil stammered, not sure how to react to this situation. They steeled themselves, standing between Declan and the other sides. “You have five seconds to give him back before I turn you in to the subconscious.”

That seems to make them pause for a moment in genuine fear before they recover themselves; Greed, Apathy, and Hatred rise to their feet, approaching Virgil. Virgil feels the intense desire to shrink back, to turn and run, but they can’t leave without Patton. They suck in a deep breath through their nose, trying to draw on their natural abilities. The room grows darker, the shadows in the corners growing, and the atmosphere of the room drops. The other sides falter for a second before they seem to shrug off Virgil’s influence as if it were a thin spring coat. Suddenly, Virgil is overwhelmed with crippling fear, knocking them down to their knees. Their heart begins to hammer in their chest, their own anxieties ratcheting up under the influence of the side slumped across the couch.

They can’t even bring themselves to look up from the dingy carpet, feeling like the others are baring down on them, though in reality they haven’t moved since Virgil fell to their knees. Suddenly, Virgil hears a pained cry from down the hall, unmistakably Patton’s. They start hyperventilating slightly, but somehow they manage to force themselves to their feet. It takes a mountain of effort to glare at the sides in front of them as they shout, “Give him back!”

They run forward, running on pure adrenaline and the need to protect Patton, their heart beating so fast it felt like it’d jump out of their chest. They swing at Apathy, who nonchalantly ducks out of the way. They’re grabbed from behind, both arms restrained by Hatred and Fear. They thrash, freeing one arm and kicking back to kick Hatred right in the kneecap. Hatred lets out a pained shout and lets go of their other arm. Virgil punches Fear straight across the face, and they’re about to wind up for another punch when someone grabs their wing and  _pulls_ , making them stumble back with a pained scream.

Greed pulls on their wing again, reveling in the cry that’s torn from Virgil’s lips. Xe lets go of the wing and Virgil stumbles forward, catching their footing and charging at Greed. They’re once again grabbed from behind, more tightly this time by a very pissed-off looking Hatred, and Fear. Greed moves to stand in front of Virgil, Apathy standing to the side with a disinterested air. Virgil fights their hold only to be forced to the ground, a knee between their wings digging into their spine. Another shattering cry of pain rips through the air and Virgil’s breath stutters. They stare up at Greed angrily.

“I’ll kill you! You let him go, now! I’ll rip you apart!”

Greed laughs. “You can’t do anything from the floor,  _Anxiety_.” Xeir voice drips with condescension and xe runs a hand along Virgil’s wing, scowling angrily when Virgil’s wings flap and slap Greed in the face. Xe pulls on the wing, ripping out a couple feathers, and Virgil bites their tongue to swallow their scream, pressing their face into the carpet. They continue to thrash, their wings flapping desperately in an attempt to throw off the two weights pinning them down. The knee in their back presses down harder, making it hard to breathe. Virgil doesn’t stop struggling, though. They can’t let the Dark Sides win.

“Give me your wings.”

That makes them stop. They completely freeze, craning their head up to stare at Greed incredulously. “…What?”

“You heard me.” Xe smirks. “Give me your wings, and we’ll let Morality go.” The screams have stopped, but that only makes Virgil more anxious. Their mind is racing, thinking a mile a minute. They should’ve told Roman about the impending threat. They should’ve told all three of them. Could they really give up their wings? They were their only connection to the others. Their lifeline to a happy, normal life.

 

_“They’re my favorite part.”_

_“Of what?”_

_“Us.”_

_“That was amazing! You guys are so cool!”_

_“I don’t know how you do everything you do. You truly are a wonder, Virge.”_

_“Absolutely fascinating…”_

 

Virgil would do anything to protect them.

They sag, all the fight leaving their body. Their eyes burn, and their voice is strained as they reply, “…Okay.”

The other sides still, watching Virgil carefully. Greed steps forward, looking cautious. “…Seriously? Just like that?”

Virgil glares up at Xim suddenly, making Xim recoil. “ _Yes_ , just like that, you piece of  _shit_. I love my family. Something you will never understand.”

Declan rolls their eyes and moves to sit on the couch, and Virgil feels confusion creep into their mind and take root like a weed. “D-Declan?”

Virgil doesn’t get a response, and they open their mouth again to ask Declan what they’re doing, why they’re just sitting there, but suddenly hands are holding their arms down against the carpet and pulling their wings apart, pressing them uncomfortably into the carpet as well. A surge of panic grips Virgil’s heart and they thrash, crying out in terror as they’re held down with more force, unable to move.

A white-hot pain cuts into Virgil’s back and they shriek in agony. They redouble their efforts to get away, but it doesn’t do much more than make the pain worse. They feel something tearing, splitting. The pain is so intense, red hot like they’re being smothered with molten lava. The pain radiates all the way down Virgil’s arms and legs, filling their head with hot air until they can’t think clearly and all they’re aware of is the pain. All they are is pain. They can’t even hear themselves screaming and crying in absolute agony. Declan looks away.

And then it goes black.

* * *

 

Virgil wakes up without the burden of existence. They don’t realize that they  _are_ , for a brief moment. They just float behind closed eyelids, vaguely aware that they’re not in bed, and there’s something tight around their chest.

And then they  _are_ , and they remember.

Panic grips them like the cold spindly hands of death, squeezing tightly and depriving them of air. They roll onto their side, curling in on themselves, forcing themselves to ignore the incredible pain radiating from their back. Their entire body is tense and rigid, trembling as though they were cold. Their breath comes in barely-there wheezes, their mind spiraling. They’re dying. They’re already dead. This was hell-

Someone grabs their shoulders and they scream, pushing the attacker back.  _Please, please, just leave me alone. No more, no more, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please make it stop, no more_.

The person backs up, speaking in a soft, calm voice. Virgil can just barely make it out over their racing heart in their ears.

“ -okay. Everything’s okay, you’re safe. You’re home. No one is hurting you, you’re okay. You’re home.”

Virgil opens their eyes, and they feel like crying when they see Patton in front of them, alive, safe,  _okay_.

“I’m right here kiddo, I’m okay. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Virgil was confused. They’d heard Patton being tortured. They’d heard the screams of agony, so how was Patton-

“I’m okay, Virgil. Please, baby, calm down. No one’s hurting me, and no one will hurt you anymore. I’m so,  _so_  sorry baby.”

Sorry? Why was Patton sorry? They’d been the one who couldn’t save Patton. They had to-

Virgil sits up quickly, chest heaving and eyes darting around. Their back feels too light; something’s missing. Everything hurts and something’s missing and something’s wrong.

There are hands on their shoulders, gently pushing them back down on the couch. “Virgil, please, you need to lay down-“

“Wings.” Virgil’s voice comes out weak, cracking on the vowel. Patton looks absolutely heartbroken, stroking Virgil’s hair. “I know baby, I know. I’m  _so_  sorry Deceit did that to you. I’m so,  _so sorry_.” Patton’s eyes shine with tears, and Virgil registers in the back of their mind that there are tears on their own face.

Patton watches as the strongest side he’s ever known falls apart on the living room couch.

* * *

 

As soon as Virgil was cleared to be well enough to return to their own room, they did. It felt foreign –  _broken_  – to move around without the comforting weight of their wings behind them like a protective shadow –  _weak_  – but they had to get used to it eventually. They refused to let anyone help them as they had to relearn balance –  _stupid_  – to walk up the stairs to their room without falling. Two days after they were allowed to sleep in their own bed, they walked downstairs to get some water.

And found the other three grooming each other’s wings.

They’d turned right around and went back to their room –  _pathetic_  – ignoring the others calling out their name. They hadn’t left since.

That was a week ago.

Patton brought food to their door. Sometimes he’d sit against the cool black wood and talk to Virgil, telling them how everyone was doing –  _useless_  – or what latest skirmish the other two had gotten into. Virgil never responds, and Patton eventually leaves.

The first time Virgil had woken up on their back, they’d had a panic attack. A crushing weight pressed down on them, pinning them to the bed as they shook –  _disgraceful_  – and tears fell from their eyes and they struggled to breathe. They decided they didn’t need to sleep in a bed after that.

A knock sounds at their door, making Virgil flinch –  _weak pathetic coward_  – but they don’t say anything. There weren’t any receding footsteps like Virgil expected. Instead, the person on the other side tried the doorknob, making Virgil’s heartrate skyrocket –  _weak stupid useless weakweakweakyoureadisappointment_  – and when the person found it locked they said something Virgil couldn’t understand. There was another voice, a pause, and then the door was open. Virgil was curled up in the corner of their room wrapped in a blanket – their makeshift bed – hugging their knees to their chest, trembling slightly and staring at nothing.

The three sides share a concerned look before Patton slowly steps forward, not missing how Virgil stiffens. “…Hey, kiddo,” He speaks quietly, trying in vain to mask the pain in his voice, “we haven’t seen you in a while. We got worried. Sorry we had to break into your room.” Virgil doesn’t respond. Patton should be used to that by now, especially because Virgil hasn’t spoken since that first moment when he woke up, but it still breaks his heart every time. “Ro, Lo and I made you something, kiddo. Is it okay if we give it to you?” Still no response.

Patton looks over his shoulder at the other two, who nod encouragingly. “I’ll put it right here, and you can look at it when you feel ready…. I love you, kiddo.” Patton sighs in the silence and places something round and purple a couple feet away from Virgil before getting up and following the others out. Virgil doesn’t miss how Patton breaks into sobs the moment the door closes.

They look at the object Patton had set down, moving closer to get a better look. It was a purple dreamcatcher. It looked rather nice, actually, with just enough error in the pattern for Virgil to know it was handmade, not conjured. There were black and purple beads in the netting and dangling from the circle….

Virgil felt the breath leave their lungs. Hanging from the circle by strands of black pleather were several feathers, some solid black or purple and the others a gradient – grey or black at the base and purple at the tip. They were their feathers. They made Virgil a dreamcatcher with  _their feathers_. They choke on a sob and clamber to their feet, stumbling to the door as tears slip down their face, throwing their door open. They take a few steps as sobs shake their shoulders, and then suddenly Patton is there, crying just as hard and clinging to Virgil and  _oh, he has his arms around Virgil’s back. That’s different._

The other two join in the hug, Roman wrapping his arms around Virgil’s waist and Logan holding all three of them in his arms. Roman, Logan and Patton hold Virgil together as they fall apart.


End file.
